Hidden in Plain Sight
by karrenia
Summary: Alfred and his late night thoughts while in prision in the Low Realm, upon coming face to face with the disturbing knowledge that the ancient enemy, the Patryns, survived. Set during Volume 1.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Death Gate Cycle vol. 1 the characters of Alfred Montbank, Haplo, Hugh the Hand and all others are the creations of Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Ballantine Books, and TSR INC, and are not mine; written from Alfred's POV.

"Hidden in Plain Sight" by Karen

As I put pen to the crisp white pages of my journal and one that I often wonder if anyone will actually read once my journeys are over as the assassin, Hugh the Hand pointed out to me shortly after our first meeting: I can not go home again.

You see I have burned my bridges, and not content with that, I even went so far to drown the remainder pieces, metaphorically speaking of course, the world of Air has a very limited supply of water. What few supplies of the precious liquid exist are fiercely guarded and fought over-but I digress. After all, my duty and my charge, Prince Bane is now my only responsibility.

As I sit on the floor of the holding chamber that the Gegs, our hosts in the Low Realm have firmly but kindly escorted us into and I speculate if now I am expected to come up with a plan.

Hugh, called the Hand stares intently at the grille farther up on the ceiling meditatively sucking on his pipe, has been staring intently at the grille farther up on the ceiling; I should leave him to it. He is not the most patient of individuals that I have ever had the pleasure of encountering. He is angry at the loss of his dragon-ship, nor do I blame him. We are trapped down here.

I carry it around with because a soothing and perhaps relaxing past time, but given the circumstances one that I should not allow myself to indulge completely. After all, I do have a reputation to maintain.

My charge, Prince Bane, the only heir of Queen Anne and King Stphen of Uylandia of the Mid Realm is a full time responsibility and unusually perceptive and intelligent for his age. I have long since lost track of how long

I have been in service to the throne, I forget sometimes that I led a double life.

The distinct line between where the bumbling, subservient, proper, ever conscious of his duty Alfred Montbank begins and where my true identity lays has become a wee bit blurry over the years.

Centuries ago I was someone else, someone powerful; one of the legendary Sartan, a race of humans gifted with extraordinary magical abilities but all of them supposedly disappeared ages ago in a world upheaval known as the Sundering.

The Sartan, in a desperate bid to prevent their enemies, their counterpart in magical power, the Patyrns from taking over the world, separated that world into its four component and elemental parts. Phenomenal yes, but sadly the mensch; as we both Sartans and Patryns, refer to the lower races, humans, dwarves and elves, paid the price.

Shortly before the Sundering took place The Sartan made the decision to put their young people into a cryogenic sleep in the hope that within a couple of centuries things would return to normal. Somewhere along a miscalculation took place, and hundreds of years passed while we slept on, unaware. I woke up to a vastly altered world; I was the only survivor, the only member of my race. Face it, Alfred, would you rather go on living like this, terrified someone

will discover your secret, that you're one of the Sartan, or that when the races do, they might use your powers for destructive purposes. Either way, it's tearing you up inside. Now you're stuck at the bottom of a very large hole, with three people whose agendado not march within a mile of each other, nobody trusts each other, and you can not even get a decent night's rest because, curled up on the opposite of the room is a man that just may hold the answer to all of those questions that keep you up at night.

Now the fact that Haplo is aware of you or who were, this make his head hurt. As a Patryn he will be wary, on his guard.

You dared to use a small sleep spell on the man called Haplo, you unwrapped the bandages that cover his hands, and you find evidence that that Patryns survived.

Secrets, but that dammed insensate curiosity keeps tripping you up even more than your stubborn over-sized feet. "Damn it." Now what do I do?" 'Well, I feel like I am filling in a role for someone who has only momentarily stepped off the stage and is expected to return. What if that person never does come bac? So this is the path that has been laid out for me? I hope I do not trip over my over-sized feet.


	2. And Miles to Go

Disclaimer: The Death Gate Cycle is the original creation of Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, TSR Inc, and other producers, etc; it is not mine, and the characters are only borrowed for the purposes of the story. 

"And Miles to Go" by Karen

'How long do I have before Haplo is on to me is anyone's guess at this poinr. After all, under the circumstances we will have to pool their resources if we hope to escape from the Low Realm alive.'

'If one of my old friends among the Sartans could see me now.'

Alfred's own reflected image stared back at him from the metal surface of the underground world of the Kicksey-Winsey.

The image appeared bedraggled and dehydrated and somewhat shocked to have its life rely on an assassin, a clairvoyant prince from the Mid-Realm, an idealistic dwarf, and one of the Patryns, the ancestral enemy.

Well, if his old friends and acquaintances among the long-vanished Sartan could have seen him now, they would have laughed at the impossible absurdity of it all.

It was absurd, however there was little to be done about the situation except ride it out.

In odd way, suddenly the metaphorical weight of the world resting on his slumped shoulders suddenly lightened a fractional bit.

Alfred stood up and walked over to where Limbeck and his girlfriend Jarre were seriously and quite intently trying to teach the words of the song that they were planning to use against the haughty Elven soldiers army in order to escape and gain access to their air-ship.

As he darted a nervous glance over to where Haplo lounged at ease, which made Alfred suddenly realize that the man could never truly be at ease, not completely.

Too much had happened, too much time had been spent honing the instinct for survival at all costs to ever truly allow himself to relax that studied hyper alertness.

Judging by the tautness around the narrow mouth and thin lips, and the wariness in the dark eyes, to allow Haplo to really let go. That was abundantly clear.

The fleeting eye contact with Haplo, even as he bent down to ruffle the silky ears of his dog, was unsettling for Alfred, so he tore his gaze away and tried to focus on what to do next.

Concentrating on studying the Patryn and contemplating his own situation, of course Alfred forgot all about watching where he placed his over-sized feet and consequently he tripped over the Dog's brushy tail. He staggered, his arms wind milled and he landed in a heap on the shifting deck with a yelp and a thud.

The dog looked up and Alfred could have sworn that he read both mingled reproach and amusement in those liquid and quite intelligent eyes. Alfred slumped his shoulders and muttered a quick apology before sorting himself out and trying to find a more comfortable seat in the corner.

Alfred is struck by a thought about ten seconds after his bony rump struck the deck; a phrase floats to the surface of his mind from one of the many old books he read while still in the service to Prince Bane's parents: 'and miles to go before I sleep.'

The context of that phrase is lost in the hazy corridors of his memory, and Alfred does not really care to try and clarify it, it is the general meaning of it that is important.

Alfred generally considered himself an unassuming mild-mannered, and perhaps even a meek man; however, in he allowed himself a rare flash of anger, that it was both unfair and ill-considered for fate to have asked to place him in this position.

All these years he had made the conscious decision to try and hide who he really was, one of the last remaining living Sartan, because he had been deathly afraid of what people would do to him, or ask him to do for them should they ever discover the true nature of his magical powers.

Now, the presence of a living Patryn, the ancient enemy, forced Alfred to confront all of this tangled emotions and decisions once more.

As miserable and as trapped as he might feel, Alfred, cannot help but realize that that he does have other responsibilities:

The Geg, pardon, the dwarf Limbeck, having never set foot outside of the Low Realm, is having a great deal of difficulty adjusting to the atmosphere in the Mid Realm.

Alfred figured that he can see to it that Limbeck is looked after, perhaps that is the best that he can do, under the circumstances. "My friend," Alfred whispered to the fitfully sleeping Limbeck, ⌠I never wanted any of this, but I will endeavor to do my best to not muck it up any worse than I already have. I promise you that."


End file.
